


Q Vs Captain Picard and the Replicators

by StellaRivers



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Picard Is Sick Of Q's Shit, Q Annoying Picard, Q Annoying Random Aliens, Q Being Annoying, Q Being Q (Star Trek), USS Enterprise D, first ever fanfic, please be nice to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaRivers/pseuds/StellaRivers
Summary: The Enterprise D's replicators are malfunctioning and crew members are having to give them extremely specific instructions just to get what they want. With some short-tempered alien delegates coming aboard, can the crew possibly figure out who or what could be causing the malfunctions?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Q Vs Captain Picard and the Replicators

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, this was some silly idea I had like 3 years ago and I started writing it back then but only recently came back to it and tacked on an ending so if it seems inconsistent or just plain shit that's why. Title is shit because I'm shit at titles. I wasn't really aware Q/Picard was a thing back than, so if you're looking for slash, this ain't it. If I'd written it now I probably would have just used the Klingons or another established species but 3-year-ago-me wanted to make things difficult for some reason. I also drew what I think the aliens would look like and I'll post the picture if I can figure out how to format it. 
> 
> All that negativity aside, enjoy!

Captain Picard arrived in his quarters after a long day on the bridge. It had been a difficult negotiation with the Jilliac people of Jilla 4 to release the away team they kidnapped, but as usual, he’d managed to save the day with his trademark Picard charm. He sank into his armchair and turned his thoughts towards a nice evening cup of Earl Grey tea.   
“Computer,” he began, “tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” 

The computer bleeped to signal his tea was ready. Picard absent-mindedly reached out his hand to grab the mug but all he found was a puddle of hot liquid. Puzzled, he arose from his armchair and took a closer look. The replicator had produced a puddle of Earl Grey tea on the surface. 

Picard repeated his request. Hot tea poured out of the top of the replicator straight onto the bottom surface. 

“Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. In a mug.” 

The replicator whirred and produced a mug which said, “I HEART CAPTAIN KIRK,” on it. 

Picard stared at the replicator, unimpressed. 

“Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. In a plain mug.” 

Once again, the replicator whirred into action and produced for him a cup of Earl Grey tea in a bright, hot pink mug.

His patience wearing thin, Picard gave up, took the tea and sat back down. He stared in disgust at the neon pink thing in his hands, reluctantly putting it to his lips. Even he had to admit it tasted as good as usual. 

“Ahhhh…computer, play me some Mozart.” 

Mozart’s Requiem blasted out from Picard’s speakers at an insanely loud volume. 

“Computer, reduce volume!” 

The computer complied, quietening the music down to an almost inaudible level. 

“Oh, come on!” 

“Please specify request,” the computer replied. 

“A little bit louder.” 

The music was still annoyingly quiet but not so much as it had been. Picard put it from his mind and shut his eyes. 

Right as he was starting to relax, someone bleeped at his door. He sighed. 

“Enter!” 

His first officer Commander Riker walked in. 

“I just wanted to run this duty roster for tomorrow by you…” Riker trailed off when he saw Picard’s pink mug. 

“The replicator appears to be malfunctioning.” 

“You don’t say…anyway, will you check this please?” 

Picard took the duty roster on the data PADD and checked it. 

“This will be fine, number one,” he concluded, “will that be all?” 

“Yes, that’s everything. Good luck with your replicator.” 

“Good night, number one.” 

Riker left Picard’s quarters snickering. 

“Captain!” came an angry voice from the corridor. 

“Yes…” Picard said forebodingly. 

Commander Worf, Chief of Security, appeared carrying a plate of mush. 

“Captain, I ordered my favourite Klingon dish and the replicator gave me this atrocity—on the third time of asking.” 

Worf lifted the plate up to Picard’s face. It appeared to be nothing more than a pile of mushed-up sawdust on a flowery china plate. 

“Are you sure you ordered the correct dish?” Picard asked. 

“Of course I am.” 

“I ordered some tea earlier that took me three attempts and still wasn’t right…this seems like something that needs reporting to engineering,” Picard pressed his com badge, “Picard to engineering.” 

“LaForge here,” came the reply. 

“The replicators appear to be malfunctioning. We’re having to give them ridiculously specific orders just to get what we want.” 

“You’re telling me. I just tried to get some lithium coils and it gave me rusty ones. And when I specified I wanted non-rusty ones, it gave me wet ones. We’re working on it down here, we’ll let you know when we find the problem.” 

“Thank you, LaForge. In the meantime, I should probably warn the rest of the ship. Picard out.” 

Captain Picard and Commander Worf went back to their respective quarters. Picard prepared to make a ship-wide announcement. 

“Attention all hands, this is Captain Picard. We appear to be experiencing a minor technical problem with the replicators. Engineering are working on it but in the meantime, you’ll have to be very specific about what you order. Thank you, Picard out.” 

The Captain finished off his Earl Grey tea and decided to retire to bed. 

“Computer, dim the lights.” 

The lights switched off completely. 

“Ow!” Picard loudly announced as he stubbed his toe on his chest of drawers, “computer, raise lights.” 

The computer raised the lights to an insanely bright level. 

“Ow, my eyes! Computer, just…reduce lighting by exactly seventy percent.” 

The computer obliged. 

“That’s better.” 

Picard changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. He thought about playing some nice, relaxing music but decided it simply wasn’t worth the hassle. 

“Computer, lights out!” 

The lights switched off and Picard drifted off to sleep. 

The following morning, Captain Picard awoke and ordered his usual, “tea, Earl Grey, hot,” whilst still half-asleep. He absent-mindedly reached out for his mug but all he found was a hot, wet puddle. 

“Oh, yeah…” he remembered, “tea. Earl Grey. Hot. In a plain white mug made of good quality ceramic with a handle and no holes in it.” 

The computer complied. Picard wondered whether engineering were any closer to finding the source of the problem. He dressed and pressed his com badge. 

“Picard to engineering.” 

“LaForge here.” 

“Are you any closer to finding the problem with the replicators?”

“No, sir, In fact, we’ve scanned all the computer’s systems and there don’t appear to be any faults at all.” 

“There’s obviously something wrong.” 

“Well, whatever it is can’t be detected by a standard scan. We’ll have to try a more thorough scan today.” 

“Keep me posted on how it goes. Picard out.” 

The Captain sighed and attempted to raise the lighting level in his quarters. After several attempts of almost being blinded and left in complete darkness, he finally got his lighting to an acceptable level. 

“Computer…give me some cornflakes…in a bowl…with milk…” 

The computer produced a tiny, plastic child’s bowl with a picture of a cartoon dog happily eating cereal on it. 

“Computer, give me an adult-sized bowl…of cornflakes…with milk.” 

The computer produced an enormous stainless steel bowl filled to the brim with cornflakes and milk. Picard sighed and ate what he could before sending the rest to be recycled. He wondered how long he would have to do this for. He wasn’t the type to lose his temper but this was one of the most annoying things he’d ever had to put up with. 

Captain Picard left his quarters and went to the bridge. He was met by the night shift, who gladly let the Captain and his team take over from them as they went to their quarters for some well-earned rest. Captain Picard took his seat in the captain’s chair, right between his First Officer Commander Riker and Councillor Troy. Commander Worf stood at ops and Commander Data was at the helm. The Enterprise was on its way to Sansha 6 to pick up some delegates and escort them to an interplanetary conference on Mirad 9, almost two weeks away at maximum warp. The crew had prepared quarters for the delegates and they would be well catered for, but the problem with the replicators could make things tricky—Sanshans were well known for having very short fuses. 

“Good morning, number one,” he said to his first officer. 

“Morning, Captain. Are you ready to meet the Sanshan delegates?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s hope they don’t do what they did to the crew of the USS Endeavour.” 

“Well…most of them regained consciousness…eventually…which reminds me, how’s the situation with the replicators?” 

“Not good. LaForge can’t find anything wrong with the computer system.” 

“That’s not good. There’s clearly something wrong.” 

“I know. He’s going to run a more thorough scan today.” 

“I hope he fixes it before those delegates arrive.” 

“Yes…so do I.” 

The Captain shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He dreaded what the Sanshans would do if they tried to order food and got a big, sloppy mess on the surface of the replicator.   
Before Captain Picard knew it, the Enterprise was in orbit around Sansha 6 and ready to pick up the Sanshan delegates. He made his way to the transporter room, straightening his uniform as he went. 

“You’ll do fine,” Counsellor Troy reassured him, “just remember not to look them in the eyes until they greet you.” 

“Where are their eyes again?” Picard asked. 

“On their faces, but they have three of them.” 

“Right…it’s the Miradians that have their eyes on their hands then?” 

“That’s right!” 

“Ready?” 

“After you.” 

Picard straightened his uniform again before entering the transporter room. 

“The delegates are ready to beam up,” transporter chief O’Brian announced. 

“Make it so,” the Captain said, straightening his uniform one last time. 

Remembering what Troy had told him, he looked at the floor as the Sanshans materialised. 

“Welcome to the USS Enterprise,” he began, feeling slightly rude for not looking at them, “I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard.” 

“Greetings, Captain,” said one of the delegates in a dry, wispy voice, “we thank you and your crew for your gracious hospitality.” 

The Captain looked up at the delegates. There were three Sanshans before him, two male and one female. They were tall and wiry, with strangely long limbs, two long fingers and a thumb on each hand and bony faces. All three of them had long, thick hair, but the female’s hair was a lighter shade of brown. They all had three large, protruding eyes and round, flat noses. The males wore long, billowy robes that went down to their ankles in bright reds, purples and pinks with gold and silver trimmings. The female’s robes were shorter, only reaching her knees, and were various shades of blue and green, with similar gold and silver trimmings. The males wore sturdy brown ankle boots while the female’s boots were khaki green and reached her knees. 

Just as Captain Picard recalled there were only supposed to be two delegates, the male on the edge and the female eyed the male in the middle suspiciously. 

“You didn’t beam up with us,” the female asserted. 

“Don’t you recognise me, mon capitan?” the central Sanshan said in a familiar voice. 

Picard sighed. 

“Q, what are you doing?” 

“Oh, just having some fun,” Q replied, transforming himself into his human form, “who are these ugly creatures?” he sneered. 

“Captain Picard, he insults us!” the male raised his voice. 

“Believe me, it isn’t personal,” Picard attempted to assure the delegate, “I’ll have a security team escort you to your quarters while I deal with Q—Picard to Worf, send a team to the transporter room to escort the delegates to their quarters.” 

“Ay, sir,” came the reply. 

Shortly, Worf and a security team arrived and escorted the delegates out of the room. 

“Q, what are you doing?” Picard repeated, eyeing Q sternly. 

“Mon capitan…what am I ever doing here?” 

“You’re usually up to no good.” 

“I’m deeply offended that you have such a low opinion of me, Captain,” Q could not sound less offended if he tried. 

Suddenly, the Captain put two and two together. 

“I assume it’s you that’s been causing these replicator malfunctions?” 

“Malfunctions? Captain, I assure you, the replicators are giving you exactly what you ask for.” 

“You’re not supposed to have to give them ridiculously specific requests and you know it.” 

“Ah, you should never become complacent that you’re going to get what you want, even from a replicator.” 

“Q, would you mind telling me what point you’re trying to prove and getting it over with?” 

Q inhaled sharply and put his hand over his heart in mock offence. 

“Jean-Luc…since when do I ever get anything over with?” 

Before Picard could open his mouth to argue, Q snapped his fingers and disappeared. The Captain sighed. This was going to be an exhausting two weeks. He left the transporter room and headed back to the bridge, ready to get out of here as quickly as possible. 

“Worf to Captain Picard,” the security chief’s voice came over the comm system. 

“Picard here.” 

“The delegates tried to order a traditional travelling beverage on our replicators and got a puddle of goo. ¬They are demanding to see you.” 

Picard sighed. 

“On my way.” 

He changed direction and walked towards the Sanshan delegates’ quarters. He hated to think what kind of scene he would discover there. Before he could reach the quarters, a familiar figure materialised in front of him. 

“Ah, Capitan, is there trouble afoot, perchance?” 

“Q, get out of my way.” 

“Trouble with the Sanshans, I take it? Hardly surprising with those brutes.” 

“They wouldn’t be such brutes if you hadn’t tampered with the replicators!” 

“Oh, please, if that hadn’t set them off, some other minor issue would have.” 

“Q, what is it you want?” 

“You haven’t figured it out yet? I must say, I’m disappointed in you.” 

“Look, either tell me what your game is or get out of my way.” 

“Fine, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of the great Captain Picard.” 

Q rolled his eyes dramatically and dematerialised. Picard gathered himself and continued to the delegates’ quarters. He straightened his uniform, then entered.   
His heart dropped at the sight before him. The male Sanshan was standing over Work with his arm raised over him, while Worf was aiming a phaser at him. The female delegate was scratching furiously at the replicator with her long, bony fingers. 

“Delegates, please!” 

Everyone stopped to look at Captain Picard. 

“Perhaps I should have informed you about the replicators. Allow me.” 

The Captain graciously stepped up to the replicator. 

“What type of vessel does your travelling beverage usually come in?” 

“The vessel is irrelevant,” the female delegate attempted to keep her voice level, “it just needs to be in one.” 

“Computer, two 500 ml portions of Sanshan travelling beverages in clear, colourless glasses made of sturdy glass with no holes in them which are large enough to hold the volume of liquid.” 

The appropriate beverages materialised. 

“Thank you, Captain,” the male delegate finally let go of Work, who huffed indignantly. 

“We’ve been having some problems with the replicators,” Picard admitted, “you need to be very, very specific about what you order.” 

“What is the cause of these malfunctions?” the female delegate demanded.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” the Captain sighed. 

“Oh, they might,” Q suddenly materialised in the corner of the room. 

“Delegates, this is Q…” Captain Picard attempted to explain, exasperated. 

“We know,” said the male delegate. 

“He’s sort of a…I’m sorry?” 

The female delegate sighed deeply. 

“We’ve met…” she began. 

“For some reason, he really hates our people,” the male interjected. 

“Oh?” Captain Picard raised an eyebrow at Q. 

“They’re so irritable—almost as fun as you,” Q replied mischievously. 

“So…you’re just what…messing with them?” Picard was almost hurt. 

“Not everything is about you, you know,” Q replied. 

“Was that your point? That not everything is about me?” 

“Yes…and the fact that their species has been nothing but rude to me ever since I first met their ancestors.” 

“There are stories,” the female Sanshan began, “about a God-like being who used his powers of mischief to inconvenience our people as much as possible. It is…rumoured that he was the cause of that famous Sanshan temper. I never believed those stories until Q here arrived on our planet a few weeks ago and started wreaking havoc again.” 

“Q, is this true?” the Captain rounded on Q. 

“Of course not. Well, partially. The Sanshans were already angry before I arrived, my meddling simply…intensified it. Then when I’d had my fun, I left. But those few weeks ago I realised you would be coming to the planet and, well, I couldn’t resist getting two birds with one stone.” 

“So, you wanted to annoy me and the Sanshans?” Picard concluded. 

“Precisely.” 

“Well, mission accomplished, please put our replicators right and leave.” 

“Oh, you wish I would stop my fun that easily.” 

With a snap of his fingers, Q disappeared. 

“You know what would really get under Q’s skin? If we just stay calm and ignore his stupid tricks,” suggested the male Sanshan. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Picard agreed, “now, if you’ll excuse me, my bridge awaits.” 

The delegates nodded as Picard and Worf left their quarters. 

“What do you think, Mr Worf?” 

“I think all of our patience will be tested in the next two weeks.” 

Captain Picard took his seat on the bridge. 

“Helm—set course for Mirad 9. Maximum warp.” 

The next two weeks were interesting to say the least. The crew and delegates started to get used to the malfunctioning replicators despite a few incidents in the first few days. 

“I’d like two 10cm by 5cm by 4cm croissants made from Recipe File 73, with non-mouldy pastry and butter and a light spreading of butter in the middle—on a plain white plate large enough to fit the croissants on it made from quality ceramic.” 

The croissants appeared in the replicator. Captain Picard took them and sat down to eat them. In a few hours, the Sanshan delegates would be dropped off on Mirad 9 for their conference and he could deal more directly with the replicator issue. Maybe they could make a pit-stop at Utopia Planetia and have the entire computer system re-booted if Q refused to fix the problem. 

After his breakfast, the Captain went to the bridge to start his shift. He took his seat in the Captain’s chair as the night shift left for some much-needed rest. 

“Captain, we will be arriving at Mirad 9 in approximately four hours, sir,” Data informed him. 

“Very good,” Picard replied, relieved he would only have the Sanshans on board for another four hours. 

“Captain, do you remember the Sanshan parting ritual?” Troy asked. 

“Bow to each of them, say, ‘travel safely onward,’ and raise two fingers and my thumb in the traditional parting gesture.” 

“That’s correct.” 

“Yes…not that I have anything against them personally, but the sooner they’re off this ship, the better.” 

“Well, that’s no attitude to have towards your honoured guests,” said a familiar voice. 

The owner of the familiar voice’s face appeared on the viewscreen. 

“Q!” 

“Of course! You think I’d squander this final opportunity to annoy both you and the Sanshans?” 

“The last time I checked, the Sanshans were in their quarters.” 

“Not for much longer…” 

Q’s face disappeared from the viewscreen. True to his word, the doors to the turbolift slid open and two very angry Sanshan delegates stormed out. 

“What is the meaning of this!?” the male demanded, waving a large piece of red fabric in his hand. 

Captain Picard stifled a sigh and stood up to deal with the delegates. 

“What happened?” he asked diplomatically. 

“I asked the replicator for some new robes, and it gave me this atrocity!” 

The Sanshan threw the fabric at Picard’s head. The Captain picked it up and examined it. It was a Sanshan robe in only one shade of red with none of the trimmings or sash. Picard   
recalled that this was a peasant’s robe and it was considered deeply offensive to present a diplomat with one. 

“Did you specify what you wanted?” 

“Of course I did! I fed the exact pattern I wanted into your replicator.” 

Captain Picard finally released his long-held sigh. 

“Q! What is the meaning of this!?” he shouted into thin air. 

After an embarrassingly long pause, Q appeared. 

“Oh, Captain, I couldn’t resist one last practical joke!” 

Captain Picard had had enough. 

“It may be a joke to you, Q, but it is deeply offensive to these people! You waltz onto my ship, mess with our computer systems and inconvenience us at every turn—and why? So you can irritate these people who have done nothing to you and yet you have ingrained yourself into their very culture just because you find it fun to irritate people. You may well have damaged their development as a society. Well, I, for one, will not stand for it. It is not amusing to make fun of these people’s culture, that you yourself shaped, just for the sake of it. A small joke to you is a highly offensive insult to them. Now, get off my ship and leave these people alone! Surely an omnipotent being has better things to do with his time!” 

“Oh, Jean-Luc, such an impassioned speech…you make me blush. Alright, I’ve had my fun, I’ll just find some other planet where I can annoy people. I hear Klingons are famous for their tempers…” 

Worf opened his mouth to protest but before he could, Q was gone. The robe in the male delegate’s hand was now brighter with more colours and gold and silver trimmings. 

“Thank you, Captain,” he said graciously and left the bridge with the female delegate to prepare for the conference. 

A few hours later, the Enterprise arrived at Mirad 9, the delegates stood on the transporter pads and Captain Picard prepared to bid them goodbye. He bowed to each of them,   
said, “travel safely onward,” and raised his hand in the traditional salute. 

“Travel safely onward,” the delegates replied, each saluting the Captain. 

“Energise.” 

The Sanshans beamed down to the planet and Captain Picard breathed a sigh of relief. 

Later, in his quarters, Picard said to his replicator, “Tea. Earl grey. Hot.” 

The tea materialised in a plain white mug made of good quality ceramic with a handle and no holes in it. 

“Ahhhh…” he said, sitting back in his armchair and putting the past two weeks out of his mind. If he knew Q, it would be a while before he encountered him again—and if he ever followed through on his threat to annoy the Klingons, he may not be in much of a condition to keep appearing randomly and winding him up.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: the picture did not work without it cutting half of it off, being sideways or both, so fuck that. I'm gonna stop trying before I bang my head against the wall.


End file.
